The Angel, the Demon, the Hunter, the Prophet and
by cowgirlfromhell
Summary: Dean Winchester has a destiny to fulfill and he can't do it alone. Mild spoilers for Lucifer Rising. Just a little fun with a cast of thousands.
1. Chapter 1

The Angel, the Demon, the Hunter, the Prophet and the Prostitute

The silence was deafening. Chuck's head swiveled from side to side but Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Looking around the writer saw the damage the archangel had wrought upon his humble abode and thought that a flaming sword would have saved him a heap of trouble and days, maybe weeks, of picking up and sorting through and patching-up and fumigating. "I should be thankful for small favors," he muttered and shoved aside some of the debris covering his couch.

Taking a deep but shaky breath, he collapsed onto it and surveying his surroundings, he leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. What had just happened, surely not what had been written? Dean was not supposed to leave the green room and he certainly wasn't supposed to be sprung by Castiel. Chuck knew what had happened to Castiel stratosphere-side and if one thought that only demons tortured then one didn't know jack shit.

Dean was also not supposed to find Sam but what else could have caused the sudden disappearance of Castiel and the ominous silence of the archangel? Had they stopped it? Was he going to live after all or was this the calm before the shit storm?

Scrubbing his hand over his face Chuck looked up and wondered if his laptop was still working. When he had written about Sam and Ruby and the RN he had felt all kinds of emotions...mainly disgust topped off with a heaping helping of fear. That was when he had checked his credit card limits and decided to order up a twenty pack of prostitutes. He had been afraid he would die a virgin.

Oh, he'd lived vicariously through the sexual escapades of Dean Winchester and considered himself a stud by proxy. Likewise he had steered clear of any involvement, vicarious or otherwise, in Sam Winchester's hook-ups. The younger Winchester was a man of various and distinctively trippy tastes, none of which appealed to the writer. But the archangel had stopped his hissy fit and all Chuck wanted to do now was delete that part of the story. There was no sense in admitting his lack of sexual experience if he wasn't, in fact, going to die any time soon.

Chuck stood up and on trembling legs made his way to his desk and began to clear away the pieces of drywall that had fallen from above when the angel had made his pissed off presence known. The laptop was still in one piece, the curser blinking on the screen and Chuck leaned in to re-read the last lines he had written before Castiel and Dean had gone rouge and showed up at his place.

He read: 'Chuck leaned in to re-read the last line he had written before Castiel and Dean had gone rouge and showed up at his place...and the door bell rang.' "I didn't write that," Chuck whispered just as the doorbell rang and he yelped in surprise. Checking the computer one last time the curser continued to blink but no more words appeared on the screen.

The doorbell rang again and Chuck slogged his way through the clutter and peeking out he saw a dark haired woman, thick bangs framing her exotic face, her eyes turned upward, her mouth set petulantly as if she were bored. "I do not want another copy of the Watchtower," he fumed, "Don't these people know that it's too late?" The doorbell rang again and when he refused to answer it the bell rang repeatedly until he threw open the door and shouted, "What do you want from me?"

"You called me sugar and for a thousand bucks, it's whatever you want from me...within reason of course."

Of course, it was a hooker and as Chuck stood dumbfounded, which he did often lately, the woman pushed her way past him into the living room. "You did call for a 'companion' didn't you?" she asked picking her way through the rubble, a look of disgust on her face, "Maybe you should have called Merry Maids instead."

"I...ah, I ...Earthquake...and yeah, I did call but that was before, when I thought..." Chuck struggled to explain while the hooker, dressed in a minuscule pink skirt with matching t-shirt with the word 'angel' emblazoned in rhinestones across her voluptuous breasts, simply smiled seductively at him.

Staring down at the fabric stretched so tightly across her front Chuck thought that if one of the jewels were to let loose he was sure he'd lose an eye and, growing more uncomfortable by the minute, he wondered if Castiel was coming back any time soon.

As he continued to stare at her endowments Chuck swallowed thickly and thought what the hell. His credit card limit was twenty hookers so price wasn't a factor...but the end of the world was and he began to try and explain his reluctance...again.

"Listen, I appreciate you coming all the way out here but could I suggest something?"

The hooker sighed and told him, "That'll be extra."

Chuck's cheeks reddened and he tried to back peddle verbally and physically when she came up to him and kissed him hard, moving him backward toward the couch until he had no choice but to sit down on it. She sat down beside him and leaned in getting as close to him as she could without actually sitting on his lap.

"No, no, no. I wasn't going to suggest...well, maybe I would have...but that was before...before..." Chuck stopped babbling and took a deep breath and forged on, "I think you should give up "the business" and maybe go to...church."

"Church!" the hooker laughed and pointed a finger at him and said accusingly, "Get thee to a nunnery!"

Chuck's face blanched and he said, "Listen, I didn't mean anything by it. I know its the world's oldest profession but now may be the perfect time to quit...and repent."

The hooker scoffed at the notion and laughed but her incredulous amusement was cut short.

"She's not a prostitute, Chuck."

It was Castiel come to them without warning and, though his revelation didn't bode well for Chuck, the angel's return was a welcome relief to the prophet. At least he wouldn't have to face the wrath of an unused and unpaid prostitute alone.

"Sure I am," the girl said lifting her hands and running them enticingly through her hair and shaking out her long mane, "Just look at this rack," she suggested and all eyes wondered to the tiny pink t-shirt just as she took in a deep breath and thrust out her attributes. "And the things I could do to you," she said to Chuck but her eyes were staring at Castiel and had become like green ice.

"Stop it, Gabriel," Castiel's voice was forceful but his heart really wasn't in it. He was leery and frankly, at that point, he was a little more than frightened.

Chuck quickly pulled away from the clutches of the dark haired beauty and eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean...'Gabriel'?" he asked as panic started to build in him. Was there no end to God's cruelty? He was not only most likely going to die a virgin but also a laughing stock if the woman he was just about to let have her way with him turned out to be a dude.

The hooker leaned back and snapping her gum sullenly and checked her lacquered fingernails for chips.

"Tell me she's not a...a...guy," Chuck implored casting his eyes quickly to the girl, who just winked at him, then back up to Castiel pleadingly.

Castiel hesitated wondering what Gabriel was up to. He knew the veil had been torn, destroyed more like it. He had heard it, felt it but he had no idea what was to happen next. He was a deserter and a traitor and he had no one to confide in or to relay orders to him. Likewise, he had no one to lie to him. He thought about lying to the young prophet but things were too far gone and he simply said, "Chuck, this is Gabriel. She's your Archangel."

Chuck looked dumbfounded and after processing this new information ventured, "You mean like Gabriel come blow your horn, Gabriel?"

Ignoring him Castiel asked Gabriel, "Why have you come?"

Rolling her eyes the Archangel told him, "Did you think your little escapade would go unnoticed? I've come to set things to right."

"As a prostitute?" he snapped.

"Why Castiel, surely you haven't forgotten poor Mary Magdalene. She was a first class whore until I cast out her seven demons." Gabriel then lifted her arms and allowed the angel to see the bloodied wrists that had marred the vessel before she had healed it.

"And a suicide?" he continued, the visage before him even more unsettling.

"Don't be so sanctimonious. I took possession of her before she bled out and forgave her her trespasses."

Chuck, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the names being bandied about, stuck his arm down between the couch cushions hoping to find a long lost bottle of whiskey but had no luck. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and physically jumped to the far side of the couch away from the Angel in hooker's pink sparkly clothing. But Gabriel now held a bottle of thirty-year-old Highland Park single malt Scotch whiskey in her hand, seal unbroken, and Chuck fairly lunged for it settling back onto the couch next to her.

Chuck Shurley couldn't afford Highland Park anything and knew it was a divine gift. He twisted off the cap and took a long pull from the bottle and rested the bottom on his leg and let the whiskey work its wonders. Calming him and bolstering his courage he asked, "And this hooker...er, escort...she's cool with all this?"

"Oh, absolutely," Gabriel said looking down at her vessel and smiling. She was well satisfied but a disparaging noise escaped Castiel and Gabriel quirked an elegantly arched eyebrow his way. "At least I didn't threaten to take someone she loved instead," she said evenly and Castiel's mouth snapped shut.

Chuck winced and waited for the wrath of it all. When none came he grew bolder and lovingly caressed the expensive bottle of scotch and asked, "So if you're my guardian angel can you grant me any wish?"

Castiel took in an audible breath and held it while Gabriel's features remained pleasant... except for her eyes. There was something about them; a kind of a sparkle and right away Chuck knew he'd screwed up.

"Chuck, I'm an Archangel, not a genie."

"But you can't be Gabriel. Gabriel's a..."

"A male? Look closely at the paintings," she told him, "I do not have 140 pairs of wings either. I am not a man as some unenlightened cultures would have you believe."

Tired of the intrigue and the duplicity and the inane conversation between the prophet and his keeper Castiel sighed. He wanted to cut to the chase, to know exactly why Gabriel had chosen to show herself when, for the most part, the Archangels had kept their own council, the exception being Uriel. "I know Lucifer has risen in part due to my actions and if you've come to take me back I won't give you any trouble," he volunteered but Gabriel shook her head.

"You've been a true and faithful servant to our Father and in your unswerving and unquestioning loyalty you have been badly used," she said getting up from the couch and crossing to where Castiel stood looking worse for wear in his rumpled raincoat. Gabriel touched his shoulder gently and smiled sadly, "It's true that our brother has escaped his cage and now walks the earth and the war has truly begun."

"Then all is lost," the angel lamented and Chuck upended his bottle.

"I don't think it's a war our Father wanted but one that couldn't be avoided. That's why He had you pull Dean Winchester from the pit. Not to stop the apocalypse but to destroy Satan. The demons know it and the angels know it and they're all gunning for him."

"Then all _is_ lost."

Gabriel's heart grew heavy as Castiel's faith in his Father and in his charge crumbled and she sought to comfort him. "Dean Winchester has a destiny to fulfill and he can't do it alone."

"Nor can I."

"I know," the Archangel replied sympathetically, "So I figured you could use a little divine intervention...and the words of a prophet."


	2. Chapter 2

As Chuck drank and Castiel fretted the Archangel now sat glued to the television set with the bottle of Highland Park grasped tightly in her hand. Castiel cleared his throat and pointed out to Gabriel that with her help she had almost brought the prophet's house down around his ears. With a cursory snap of her fingers Chuck's house was in order.

The lesser angel stood, his arms folded, staring at Chuck who sat at his desk staring at the computer's screen, mere seconds away from a total melt down. The angel's face was serene, his eyes soft, but he was staring nonetheless and Chuck felt the pressure building. Someone had hit the celestial mute button and he had nothing.

Then an angel's voice rang out. "Oh, look! It's the Reverend Camden and just listen to that dramatic music," Gabriel squealed and took a slug from the bottle, a beatific smile on her face.

Chuck swiveled in his chair to face her as she sat cross-legged on the couch and he asked hesitantly, "Ah, don't you I think it's the Christian thing to do. To share the bottle I mean?"

"Don't be silly, Chuck, you're driving."

"Are we going someplace?"

Gabriel turned a jaundiced eye toward him and replied, "I don't know. You tell me."

Castiel, as impatient as ever, sighed nosily and glanced at his fellow angel and saw her shake her head ever so slightly before letting her gaze return to the TV.

Chuck's eyes returned to his computer and he actually started to pray for his head to either start pounding, the portent of God's word, or to explode so all this would end.

"Oh look, Annie Camden just made a barf face," Gabriel cried pointing at the set, "And she told Ruthie to go brush her teeth and Lucy's in the bathroom putting on make up!" The prostitute jumped off of the couch, arms stretched high in the air in victory, and shouted, "Hat trick!" then proceeded to take three pulls on the bottle.

"And all before the first commercial break," Chuck muttered to himself. Rubbing his stiff neck he felt a faint pain gathering behind his eyes and held his hands poised over the keys and waited...but still nothing. And there he sat while in the Camden household, the Reverend wrote a sermon, interrogated his daughter Lucy's date before they left for the diner, Matt Camden slammed the phone down causing his mother to get mad, Simon Camden acted like a big wuss, Mary Camden dribbled a basketball while wearing a towel and the Archangel got plowed.

As she continued to play the Seventh Heaven drinking game Chuck became concerned about Gabriel's well-being and the diminishing level of the whiskey in the bottle and he finally got up and, at a complete loss as to how to entertain angels, he decided to order pizza and within half an hour the bell rang.

Gabriel ran to the door and threw it open and came face to face with the zit faced delivery dude who just stood dumbfounded and smiling stupidly at her.

Coming up behind her Chuck smiled sickly at the driver and said, "Hey, Ronald."

Pushing his way inside Ronald sidled up to Chuck and whispered, "I knew something was up when you ordered the extra pies. Party?"

Confused, Chuck replied, "Party?" then assured his friend, "Nope, no party here. Definitely no party. This is ah, my cousin, ah, Gabriel...la."

Balancing the pizza boxes on one arm Ronald stuck out his hand to her and Gabriel just stared down at it. Flustered he looked to Chuck who told him, "She's not from around here" and noticing her dark hair Ronald then said "Hola," and wiped his sweaty palm on his uniform pants.

"Hola, Ronald," Gabriel replied grabbing the pizzas and then added, "Pay the man, Chuck."

As he reached for his wallet the prophet gave her a pained look and she added, "Lay not up for yourself treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal," and at that moment Ronald thought Chuck's hot cousin was from outer space and grabbing his money he was out the door.

Gabriel set the boxes on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch again. Smiling she opened the top most box, the one that held the double pepperoni and double cheese, and leaning forward inhaled deeply. She pulled apart and picked up a piece and daintily tasted the tip. She sighed and closed her eyes and stuffed three quarters of the piece into her mouth.

Chuck sat down next to her and reached for a piece but instead of taking a bite he offered it to Castiel who declined the offer content to feed his vessel spiritually.

Finished with her first piece Gabriel grabbed the slice from Chuck's hand and devoured it and he asked her, "When was the last time you ate?" as he watched her lick her fingers.

"Never," she answered pushing closer to the box intent on devouring the rest of the pie herself.

"And I thought Dean Winchester was a glutton," Chuck said staring at her in wonder.

"Oh, he is," she agreed readily, "But that won't be the sin that finally does him in."

"Oh, no?" Chuck asked his interest piqued.

"The odds on favorite is lust."

"You have a betting line in heaven?" he then asked and she looked at him as if he were really, really slow.

"Sure. I thought I had a sure thing with that McCain-Palin ticket," she said between bites, "but I guess you're not the mud monkeys Uriel thought you were."

Chuck looked up at Castiel and he just shrugged, "Some of us fight for what's right while others..."

"Get to live vicariously through the prophets."

Gabriel words chilled Chuck Surley to the bone. "How long have you been my Archangel?"

"Since the day you were born," she told him tossing the first empty pizza box onto the floor, "And I'm so glad your head returned to its natural shape."

Reflexively running his hand across the top of his head he asked, "And you've...watched over me...every day since then?"

"Yep."

"Even the time I wet my pants in Mrs. Finnmaucher's first grade class?"

"Uh huh," she mumbled around another mouthful of pizza.

"And when I shoplifted that classic car model kit with the...?"

"The 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona with the rear spoiler? How do you think old man Peterson found out it was you?" she confirmed wiping her mouth on the tiny sleeve of her tee shirt.

Rummaging under the boxes Chuck pulled out a handful of napkins and thrust them at her and refused her offer of another piece of pizza. The thought of someone watching over him for his entire life had spoiled his appetite to say the least.

Gabriel just huffed and thrust the piece of pizza at him again and told him, "And I was there the day you locked braces with Wendy Wilson and the time you wrapped tape on your fingers and pretended to drop money in the collection plate and the first time you popped wood and the time you..."

"Okay, okay. I get it, I get it." Chuck shouted trying to drown her out.

The room grew quiet until Gabriel burped and the couch practically shook. Castiel looked at her with disgust. It had been eons since the Archangel had taken on human form and her manners were fine, back in the day, but in today's world they left a lot to be desired.

Chuck simply couldn't help himself and he started to laugh, hesitantly at first but when Gabriel giggled he found that once he started he couldn't stop and after fifteen minutes of gut busting laughter, with tears streaming down their cheeks, Chuck and Gabriel collapsed in a heap in the middle of the couch.

As their laughter died down Chuck finally noticed the pair standing in the doorway and jumped to his feet. Chuck stared as Sam and Dean Winchester walked into the living room their faces pale and drawn and although he really didn't want to know he felt he should ask anyway. "What happened?"

Sam's face paled even more if it was possible and Dean just shrugged. What could one say when one had just freed Lucifer and initiated the beginning of the end. So he just bent over the pizza box, all the while his eyes glued to the well endowed hottie with pizza grease all over her pouty lips and holding a bottle of Highland Park Whiskey to her breast, and grabbed a piece. He then winked and said, "Chuck, you ordered pizza...with a side of hooker."


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel rose and swaying gently on her pink leather strappy four-inch high slut heels made her way over to stand directly in front of Sam who stood staring belligerently at her wondering just what the hell was going on. Why was Chuck's house still in one piece and not a pile of heavenly rubble? From what Dean had told him the heavens above were threatening to open up when he and Castiel had exercised free will and sent Zechariah back to heaven. Hot footing it to Chuck to save him from perdition the room looked neat, tidier even than the last time they'd been there.

Smiling crookedly she let fly a boozy hiccup and, ignoring his animosity, Gabriel stuck out her hand they way the pizza dude had done and said, "And you must be Sam Winchester." In anticipation of his foul touch her wings threatened to break through and unfurl to their full height and breadth, a lot like of like the raised ruff on a vicious dog, but she willed herself to remain calm and held her hand out expectantly in front of her.

Although Sam's childhood had been anything but normal he had, at least, been raised to be polite and he took her cool hand in his and shook it. His guilty eyes never met hers and, never bothering to read over Chuck's shoulder, Gabriel saw it all for herself. From the first drop of demon's blood to Ruby's final betrayal and her heart broke for him.

Sam Winchester had been a righteous man twisted and turned by fate and ill fortune into a demon whose power had freed Lucifer. The power was now all but gone, replaced by guilt and a smothering sorrow not for what he had become but for what he had done and for what had been done to his brother for his sake. Recognizing a kindred spirit Gabriel felt her host gently weeping.

Placing her hands on either side of Sam's face Gabriel pulled him close and whispered in his ear, "All is not lost. It could have just as easily been you whom God chose. But your brother cannot do this alone, he needs you."

Sam huffed incredulously and Gabriel knew Azazel had done his work well. Mary Winchester's son was now a shattered means to an end and he would need to be shown his true worth and his true path. The hooker pulled back and Sam's eyes finally locked with hers and he saw only compassion and her beatific smile and despite his raging headache he did feel better. "Have some Pizza, Sammy," she said loud enough for the others to hear and squeezed his shoulder, "Life's always better with pizza...and whiskey."

Castiel let out the breath he'd been holding and Chuck continued to fidget nervously as he stared at the couple while Dean took another piece of pizza and a seat on the couch. Holding up the whiskey bottle he beckoned for Chuck to join him and handed it off to the prophet and Chuck thankfully pounded another one.

"So Chuck, hookers? Highland Park?" Dean asked washing his pizza down with another Swig of the bottle.

Chuck simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled weakly, "Nothing's too good for the end of the world."

"Amen, brother," Dean agreed and glanced over to where 'Pinky' still stood with his brother and whereas her smile had been angelic for Sam it was now distinctly lecherous as she stared back at him.

Glancing sideways at Dean and seeing his matching leer Chuck suggested, "You might want to rethink whatever it is you're thinking."

"What?" Dean asked innocently, "With Pinky? You think she'll go for the Satan's special? Two for the price of one?"

Chuck moaned out loud while Castiel scowled at him.

Dean frowned back and asked, "What? She's not the bearer of any kind of pestilence is she?" he then asked and the prophet started to choke, tears running down his reddened face.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Gabriel said squeezing in beside him on the couch. Clutching his arm she rubbed herself against his rock hard bicep like a cat in heat, "I've heard so much about you."

Puffing up like a peacock he smiled, "I bet you have, Pinky, and it's all true."

Fully expecting this sort of retort her laughter was full-throated and genuine. She was satisfied that she was going to win her bet eventually because no matter what God or the devil put him through Dean Winchester was forever a horn dog.

Gabriel stood up and headed for Chuck's bedroom. She turned and crooked her finger at Dean and said, "I believe you're interested in the Satan's special?"

Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey and jumped up to follow her.

With an astonished look on his face Chuck looked to Castiel and when the angel remained stoic he turned to Sam and muttered, "If he thinks I'm paying for this he's crazy. He can damn well use one of those phony credit cards you guys have in your wallets."

Ignoring him Castiel turned to Sam and unable to hide his look of contempt said, "So it's done."

Sam flopped down on the couch and replied angrily, "Yeah, no thanks to your kind."

"Then I guess the credit goes to yours," he retorted.

Chuck stood up. "Now wait a minute, guys. Gabriel just put my house of brick back together and I don't want..." he stopped and cleared his throat, "I'd appreciate it if you two would take it outside..."

"Gabriel?" Sam said looking squarely at Chuck, "An Archangel's been here?"

The prophet's knees grew weak and he sat back down on the couch and started to stammer, "Is here...in my bedroom...with your brother...Pinky."

Sam just closed his eyes and surrendered to the pain behind them.

After chasing the cat away Gabriel and Dean lay facing each other in the middle of Chuck's bed, the Archangel smiling and resting on bent elbow. She stared at his lips and he leaned in to kiss her and a spark arched between them as they touched. Dean pulled away and swore at what he thought was static electricity but when he tried again the same thing happened and he began to wonder what kind of bullshit was going on.

Unconcerned Gabriel stroked his cheek and said, "So everything I've heard about you is true?"

Suddenly suspicious Dean ventured cautiously, "Well, maybe not everything."

"I heard that you went to hell," she started and he began to move away. She pulled him back and said, "And that you tortured souls and that you liked it."

Dean reached for the 45 auto he had stuck in the back of his jeans intent on placing a bullet right between Pinky's beautiful green eyes. But with a look from those same eyes he stopped.

"And that you are the righteous man who started it all," she continued and instead of throwing up a protective wall layered with bricks of sarcasm and anger he lay back on the pillow and covered his eyes with an arm.

"That's what they tell me," he said softly, "I couldn't help it. The pain...it was so bad...I just wanted it to stop."

"No one blames you," Gabriel said gently.

Dean didn't care. "I blame me," he insisted, "My father held out for a hundred years and..."

"And demon's lie," she told him and reading his thoughts she added, "As do angels."

Dean let his arm fall away and he silently stared at the ceiling listening as she asked, "But you do believe that you're the only one who can stop him now that he is raised?"

He though about it for a while and could only tell her, "I've gotta believe it...otherwise we're all screwed. But I can't do it alone. I need my brother but he's one out away from losing the series."

"Your brother will not fail. You will not fail. God has faith in you both."

Sitting up Dean turned to face her and asked, "So which are you, Pinky? Angel or demon?"

Gabriel sat up and replied, "I'm an Archangel," and handed him the bottle.

Taking a drink he shook his head and asked rhetorically, "So Chuck's angel is a beautiful, big breasted, boozy babe while mine's an anal retentive schlub who sells radio ads," and when she nodded he added, "Son of a bitch!"

"I'm Gabriel," she told him and before he could open his mouth added, "and no I'm not a dude."

"Obviously not," he agreed checking out her boobs again, "So no Satan's special?"

"I'm afraid not," she said regretfully, "The spark. It was a warning."

"A warning?" he said not fully understanding.

"Somebody's trying to hedge his bet, make sure you don't die from the sin of lust," she said peevishly and surmised, "I bet its Raphael. He's such a sore looser."

"Well, let your money ride because when this is all over..." Dean began but she shushed him and listened to a voice he couldn't hear.

Turning back to him Gabriel asked, "How long has it been since you've talked to Bobby Singer?" and before he could answer they could both hear Chuck's anguished cry.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh, God," Chuck groaned and jumped up from the couch. He stood in the center of the room looking heavenward and spinning around kept repeating, "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."

"What is it?" Castiel demanded grabbing his shoulders to stop his circular motion. The angel wanting to comfort the man while at the same time he wanted to throttle him for his hysterics.

Chuck looked at Castiel blankly as if he didn't know who he was and the angel shook him impatiently and repeated, "What is it? What has my Father shown you?" The prophet turned his eyes away from the angel and stared at Sam Winchester.

Sam's heart sank at the look of abject misery on Chuck's face and he wondered what else could possibly go wrong...or be wrong. What else did God or Satan have in store for him? But when Dean came back into the room and Chuck looked at him with the same wretchedness, his eyes wide with fear, Sam knew it was more than just him.

"What is it? What'd you see?" Dean asked coming up to him. He pushed Chuck back with his mere presence until the frightened man backed into a wall, thumping his head, but still Chuck couldn't speak.

He was afraid of Dean's reaction to his latest flash from above and, though it was only flashes, what God had shown him was horrendous in its cruelty, unthinkable in this day and age and too late to stop.

Seeing the terror in the young prophet's face fed his own fear but Dean dismissed the flight option and grabbed Chuck by the collar. He pulled his face to within an inch of his and ground out, "Is it Bobby?" Chuck's eyes widened in response to the question and Dean had his answer.

He pushed Chuck none to gently back against the wall and pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket and mashed the speed dial number for Robert Singer, Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It began to ring through only to have a machine pick up. "Jesus H Christ," Dean said in a fit of pique when the same message came through on his second and third tries, "This doesn't make any sense."

"Don't blaspheme, Dean," Gabriel rebuked him as she stood in the doorway watching.

The hunter stared at her, mentally shaking his head, still unable to reconcile the hooker with the heavenly body to well, the heavenly body and he sighed peevishly and capitulated. "Okay, okay but it's been a long year so cut me some slack, will ya."

"Are you sure you dialed it right? Chuck asked and grimaced at the looks of scorn sent his way by both Dean and Sam, who had tried dialing Bobby's CIA, Homeland Security and FBI numbers, only to get the same recorded message.

Handing his phone off to Chuck the prophet listened intently repeating aloud the message, 'You've reached Mark. It's fifteen twenty one hours and I'm wheels up. So leave a message'. Looking up, his forehead wrinkled in dismay, Chuck asked, "Who's Mark?"

Dean scrubbed his hand across his face and hissed, "Dios lo maldiga!"

Gabriel reminded him that, "He also speaks Spanish...fluently!" and he just rolled his eyes.

"I mean it's Bobby's voice but what's it mean?" Chuck asked meekly handing the phone back to Sam.

"You're the prophet," Dean snapped angrily, "You tell us," and Chuck could only gape like a fish out of water because he didn't have an answer.

Chuck Surley was just the messenger and he didn't want to be killed, or at the very least pummeled by Dean Winchester, so he thought it best to keep quiet about...everything.

Castiel cleared his throat drawing the attention of all in the room and said in his best Sunday school teacher's voice, "Mark, chapter 15: verse 21. And they compelled one Simon, a Cyrenian, who passed by, coming out of the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to bear his cross."

"He's at Rufus Turner's. Let's go, Sammy," Dean said and grabbed his leather jacket.

But no one moved and all eyes turning to Gabriel, who simply stood, chewing absently on a ragged cuticle. "What?" she asked when the silence penetrated her heavenly thoughts and shaking her head she told them, "I'm not riding in that car. It's a death trap. The traffic here is worse than a chariot race at the Coliseum."

"And I'd rather not go because..." Chuck started but Dean grabbed him roughly by the arm and he finished weakly, "I get car sick."

"You're going!" Dean decided and turned to the Archangel, "He can travel without you can't he, Pinky?"

"He'd only slow me up," she said and with a snap of her gum and her fingers Gabriel and Castiel were gone.

"Where'd they go?" Chuck asked stupidly and then said in unison with Dean as he was dragged out the front door and down the porch steps, "You're the prophet, you tell us."

Shoving him unceremoniously into the back seat of the Impala Dean also added, "And if you ralph in my car, Pinky or no, I'm gonna kill you.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam Winchester pushed the gasoline pump nozzle into the Impala and pulled back on the trigger. It immediately clicked off. He tried again and the same thing happened. Shaking the heavy car wasn't easy but when it finally began to move he heard gasoline sloshing close to the top of the fill pipe.

The gas gauge had been on 'E' when they'd pulled into Chuck's driveway and when they'd left the prophet's home to pull into the nearest gas station it was below 'E'. Sam told his brother that the gas gauge was effed up and Dean cursed a blue streak. With no time to get it fixed they would now have to travel using the mpg method.

A full tank and, because Dean was lead footed in general and now in a big hurry to get to Rufus', only ten miles per gallon tops. Traveling around eighty miles an hour on the interstate they would be stopping every 240 miles or approximately every three hours for gas. And so it began.

Three hours of Metalica while Sam wallowed in a pit of remorse and self-loathing all the while trying to hide the effects of going cold turkey. Three hours of AC/DC as Dean bounced back and forth between "Fuck Satan and the bitch he rode in on" and his plans to fulfill the prophecy and Dean's destiny to "Fuck God, Zachariah, Castiel and all the other angels but especially Pinky, please just one time" and his plan to take Sammy and leave for parts unknown. And three hours of Sabbath as Chuck imagined all the ways Dean would beat the crap out of him when he finally saw what had been written about Bobby Singer.

Dean estimated that the tank was almost empty and they pulled off of the interstate and into the nearest gas station pulling up to one of the pumps. With the prophet pretending to be asleep in the back seat and Sam pumping the gas Dean headed inside to stock up on Pork Rinds, Cheetos, Slim Jims and any number of snacks, all of which would remain perfectly preserved even after a nuclear holocaust or Armageddon, whichever came first.

Sam pulled the nozzle from the pump and went through the same motions he had before. Place nozzle A into slot B, press the trigger and...click. Not bothering to try again he simply put nozzle A into pump slot C and walked into the building.

"Got us some food for the ride, Sammy," Dean said pointing to the pile and Sam's stomach turned at the thought of the greasy, salty, crunchy non-food Dean lived on.

He said weakly pointing to the large candy display in front of the cashier, "I just want a Coke...and some of those Hershey bars."

Grabbing a fistful Dean tossed them on the pile along with a six pack of coke and pushing a credit card across the counter added, "And gas on five."

"We didn't need any gas," Sam said and when Dean turned to him he made a circle with his thumbs and forefingers and briefly lifted his hands over his head.

"Yeah, right," Dean said and wondered what else the angels were up to. He found out just minutes later when he barreled by a cop sitting in his cruiser on the side of the highway, a speed gun in his hand aimed directly at the Impala, doing about ninety.

"Fuck," Dean cursed with a mouthful of cheese like substance. He wiped his fluorescent orange fingers on a rag and glancing into the rear view mirror watched as the cop pulled out and gave chase only to pull over a family from Milwaukee in the mini van directly behind them.

Breathing a sigh of relief and thanking Pinky for small favors they made it to Rufus' rambling two-story house where Gabriel and Castiel waited for them on the front porch in record time.

"You made good time," Gabriel remarked as the three of them got out of the Impala and made their way to the bottom of the steps.

"Yeah, thanks to Our Lady of Perpetually Filled Gas Tanks," Dean told her.

Giving credit where credit was due Gabriel glanced to Castiel who just shrugged his shoulders and Dean said to him, "Thanks Cas...for the gas and the blind cops and for the complete absence of any red lights."

From Dean's light tone Gabriel knew Chuck hadn't spilled the beans, as it were, but to know that she had only to look at the misery in the prophet's eyes.

"Where's Bobby?" Sam demanded heading up the steps.

Gabriel stopped him with a raised hand and his rapid breathing; the sweat dripping down the sides of his face and the chocolate on his breath didn't go unnoticed. "He's inside," she said and added, "but demons have come...and gone."

Sam didn't care. Nothing could be worse than seeing Satan up close and personal but when he walked into the living room and looked up he knew he had never been so wrong in his life and a strangled sound came from his throat and his stomach heaved and he threw up chocolate all over the rug.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted.

Castiel tried to stop him but he just pushed his way between Pinky and the Pain following his brother's cry.

"He's gonna kill me," Chuck wailed and looked pleadingly at his Archangel but Gabriel didn't seem concerned even when Dean's agonizing cry shattered the quiet.

Nor was she concerned when he bolted back out the door and grabbing her painfully by the scruff of her neck and pushed her inside. She wasn't concerned because she had already seen it.

The angels had already seen it but Chuck had only seen it in a vision and when he came into the living room and beheld the spectacle in the flesh...and blood...he gasped and started to mumble something about God's mercy and Jim Beam's whiskey.

The living room of Rufus' house was called a great room and it had two stories of interior wall hiding the staircase to the second floor. Pictures of friend and relatives had once hung on the wall. Some, like his beloved wife and children, lost to goodness and some, like his brothers in arms, lost to evil but eventually all lost to time. But now the photographs, the wooden frames and the sheets of glass littered the floor, smashed beyond recognition, and in their place hung three men.

One black with a penchant for Johnny Walker Blue, another white with a taste lately for soda pop and a third a young man with blonde hair wearing black dress pants and a crisp white shirt now stained with blood. He was a preacher of sorts come to the door to save a couple of old heathen ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Each was crucified, arms spread wide, hands nailed with precision to the studs, feet crossed and spiked as well, the full weight of the bodies resting on blocks of wood ripped from the beamed ceiling and slammed through the drywall in a great show of strength and uncontrolled fury. In addition to the obvious wounds to hands and feet Bobby Singer's head was crowned with a wreath of rusted barbed wire. Dried rivulets of blood marked his face and directly over his heart a deep gash still seeped blood.

"Bobby!" Dean shouted but Bobby didn't answer. Rufus Turner moaned and his head flopped to the opposite side and the young hunter started to freak. "Help him!" he shouted grabbing the old man's legs trying to ease the pressure on his limbs and to ease his pain.

Sam and Chuck, using a blood covered hammer thrown carelessly onto a couch, managed to get Rufus down amid agonizing screams and Dean, tears shimmering in his eyes, grabbed Bobby's legs and shouted up at him again. But the older hunter remained still, his eyes closed, his face serene in what surely must have been a cruel and painful death.

But Dean wasn't about to let him go gently. "You," Dean pointed at Castiel, "You fix him...fix all of this," and he demanded and swept his arm across the horrendous scene.

"It's too late," Castiel said softly looking up at the remaining crucified with both fear and wonder, "It's too late."

"You're an angel for fuck's sake," Dean yelled and Sam, remembering a time when Dean lay in the hospital, so very near to death at the hands of Alastair, cut him off.

"He can't do it," the younger Winchester told him and Dean realized Sam was probably right. So he turned to Gabriel and said, "But _**you**_ can." And even though she gave him a 'Who me? look' he knew he was right.

After long moments punctuated by Rufus' groans Gabriel sighed and told him, "Yes, I can...but I won't," and Dean knew that the final straw had finally fallen and he could feel his world start to tilt.

He looked around for something, anything, with which to kill the angels and grabbing the bloody spike Sam had dislodged from Rufus' shattered feet he walked up to Gabriel and said in a voice, low and menacing and tinged with insanity, "You do it, bitch, or you're dead."

"Biyatch?" Gabriel said incredulously then grew serious, "This is Lucifer's doing. It's a warning to you...to us...to not interfere."

"I got the message loud and clear. Hell, I even got the whole picture in Technicolor-ed blood," he assured her angrily, "Now make this right...or I'm gone and I'm taking your suck-ass prophecy with me."

"Oh, hell," Gabriel sighed in exasperation her full lips pinched tightly together, "We can't go following him around undoing the damage he does. It'll throw everything off, change everything and maybe not for the better."

"Oh, like everything is peachy keen now."

"Could be worse," she told Dean.

He gave her a withering look and her nostrils flared and her lip curled causing one eye to squint but he would not be put off with her bitch face and said rhetorically staring levelly at her "Not for me...so bring him back," and remembering the other men he added, "Bring them all back."

"Listen, Dean," she said and tried to explain the ways of heaven to him, "God commanded Castiel to follow your orders but I have free will and answer only to Him."

"Forget Him!" Dean barked out with a mirthless laugh, "He sure as hell's forgotten you."

Dean didn't think she had any but still he tried to appeal to her humanity, "Just answer to yourself. Let your conscious be your guide Pinky. Be all that you can be...and do the right fucking thing!"

No wonder Zachariah's panties were always in a bunch Gaberial thought. Dean Winchester was tenacious to say the least and maybe a little crazy and she considered doing as he asked but she wanted him to know there were still consequences. "You play fast and loose with other people's lives, Dean Winchester," she reminded him, "Maybe your Bobby won't appreciate you bringing him back."

"I don't care," he told her and he didn't. He'd lost his mother when he was four and for all intents and purposes he'd lost his father then, too, and although he'd fought heaven and hell for his brother he'd lost Sam and he ground out, "Haven't you taken enough from me?"

Yes, Gabriel thought, yes we have and as they watched Pinky rose up into the air until she was even with Bobby's Singer's body. She touched first the nail through his left hand and it fell to the floor, as did the nail through his right when she touched it. The spike in his feet pulled away just as easily and she removed the crown of barbs from his head. She took his body in her arms and floated back down and laid him gently on the floor next to Rufus.

Squatting down next to the black man she laid hands on Rufus' wounds and they healed quickly. She then looked up at Dean and said, "Criss Angel, eat your heart out," and laid hands on Bobby Singer. The wounds on his extremities healed but the hunter remained cold and unmoving.

"Pinky," Dean whispered pleadingly and she smiled to herself knowing he doubted her intentions and her ability. She slowly placed her hand into the gaping wound on Bobby's chest, just as Saint Thomas had done to Jesus of Nazareth, and Bobby's eyes fluttered open.

Falling to his knees Dean wrapped his friend's cold hand in his and squeezed holding on for dear life. Using Dean's strength for leverage Bobby sat up and looked straight into his eyes and said gruffly, "What took ya so long?"

Dean, forgetting completely his aversion to chick flick moments, hugged him hard while Sam looked on tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

Chuck just rocked back and forth chanting "Thank you, God. Thanks you, God" under his breath.

Castiel, enraptured with the resurrection he'd just been privileged to see, helped Rufus to his feet and swaying unsteadily the old man asked the scantily clad healer, "Can you save the Witness?"

All eyes turned to the third victim of the unholy trinity and Gabriel sadly shook her head. "I told you this was a message for us, too," she reminded them, "Now cover your eyes."

The third victim of Lucifer's pain and rage began to shimmer and thrum and a blinding white light filled the room and when the day was still again only a dark imprint of where the Witness had hung remained.


	6. Chapter 6

Gabriel looked around and was met by stunned expressions. The brothers, the Prophet and the Angel all standing while Rufus and Bobby looked up from the floor and to a man all eyes were intact and at that moment windows to the soul.

Bobby looked up at her his eyes filled with gratitude and a sparkle of lascivious appreciation while Rufus looked at her with pure unadulterated contempt. He stood, his joints stiffened by Lucifer's mishandling of his old bones, and walked slowly into the kitchen.

The prophet's eyes shown brightly with fear and distress and Gabriel wondered if Chuck Shurley would live long enough to fulfill his destiny and complete the Winchester Gospel or simply die from an exploding heart.

Castiel's eyes reflected the pain of losing the Witness, an angel in his own right, while Sam's eyes fairly radiated the guilt he felt for his perceived part in all of it.

Only Dean Winchester's eyes were unreadable as his thoughts raced, sorting through and collating everything he had just witnessed. Gabriel knew his soul was forever altered and carefully guarded from even the angels and she wondered if instead of failing Alistair had succeeded in his mission to turn the righteous man so far away from God that fulfilling his destiny would be impossible.

God's Messenger had come again to earth in the hopes of setting things to right but because she couldn't 'see' through his eyes and into his soul the Archangel didn't know if John Winchester's eldest son would even hear the words when she finally spoke to him of God's plan. But she had seen through Rufus Turner's and following him into the kitchen she sat down across from him and his half empty bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and gave him a message. "Your wife is worried about you."

Rufus turned a jaundice eye toward Gabriel and looking her up and down and shook his head. "My wife is dead and if she weren't she would have never even spoken to a hoochie mama like yourself."

"Yes," Gabriel said quietly, "she would have and she would have never cast aspersions upon this poor woman."

"You look fit enough to me," Rufus said crossly eyeing the vessel's large breasts while taking a drink from his glass.

"You'll have to excuse my friend here," Bobby apologized coming into the room and circling around behind Rufus. He placed his hands on the black man's shoulders and squeezed harder than Rufus thought necessary and added, "He doesn't entertain company much anymore."

"Never did," Rufus huffed knocking back the rest of his whiskey in his glass, "That was my wife's doing."

Gabriel smiled. "Taking in stray dogs as well as lost souls strayed from the straight and narrow...unwed teenage mothers...runaways."

"Yeah and one of those poor lost souls was a demon and..." Rufus closed his eyes his shaking hand reaching for the bottle. But before he could grab it and pour another tumbler full Gabriel reached for him and enclosed his gnarled hand in hers.

His eyes shot open and he tried to pull free but the hooker had a grip of demonic strength and the voice of an angel and she told him again, "Your wife is worried about you. Tell her you'll take you meds and that you'll stop drinking so much."

Rufus could see her as plain as day, his beautiful dark haired, dark skinned wife sitting across from him where, only moments before, a black haired hooker had sat. But the veteran hunter knew better than to trust his own eyes and shouted "Christo" at his wife and Bobby wanted to smack him up side the head.

"She ain't no demon, ya bull headed old fool," Bobby said irritably but without any real rancor, "She's an angel." Bobby had been dead, his soul hovering just above his mutilated body and when he looked down he had seen the divine light of the pink clad Angel as she healed him reuniting his body and his soul once again.

Rufus looked back up at his wife and when she smiled at him he knew that it was really her but that her time was fleeting. He only had time enough to assure her he would take better care of himself, an impossible promise to keep he suspected.

The vision of Rufus' wife faded and the veteran hunter refilled his glass and leaned back in his chair, arm draped over the back, and said skeptically, "So you're an angel, huh?"

"An Archangel really," Chuck offered scuttling into the room, shoulders hunched, head bowed like a frightened oft beaten puppy.

Rufus looked back at her and when Gabriel nodded her head in affirmation he still didn't quite believe his eyes and suggested, "Good, then you can stop this…Apocalypse... if you're not too busy turning tricks."

"Sounds good to me...especially the turning tricks part," Dean said as he walked into the kitchen. He winked at Gabriel, who smiled in spite of herself, while Sam hung back leaning against the door jam.

The Archangel waited patiently for Rufus to fill a glass for Dean and Chuck before she sighed and said, "There's only one Angel strong enough to stop all this and I am not he."

You're talking about Michael, aren't you?" Chuck said his eyes widening even more. He hurriedly downed his libation in one gulp, an offering to the god Oblivion.

Gabriel turned to the Prophet and smiling serenely trying to calm him and nodded her head.

"But he can't…come...here. He's too...he's too..." Chuck swallowed and again at a loss for the right words his mouth simply hung open.

Gabriel smiled again, gravely this time. "Michael knows that Lucifer walks the earth but like the serpent in the paintings our brother will shed his skin a number of times before finding his true vessel." Gabriel brought no comfort with her words especially to Sam Winchester.

"And Michael?" Dean demanded his voice angry and emotionally charged.

"And Michael," Gabriel said her voice devoid of all emotion, no anger, no sorrow, no joy, "Will simply bide his time and wait until his vessel calls out to him for salvation."

"Fat chance, Pinky," Dean said under his breath between sips of whiskey and loud enough for only Gabriel to hear.

Gabriel stood up from her seat across from Rufus and walked around the table to stand directly in front of Dean and leaning in, her lips inches from his, she whispered, "Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall."

"I'll take my chances," he whispered back and threading his fingers through her hair he pulled her forward and kissed her long and hard and after the sparks arched painfully added, "No pain, no gain."

Gabriel took a step back. She knew she had her work cut out for her thanks to Alistair's handiwork and said in a breathless voice, "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

But Dean walked past her and extended his glass for the last of the Blue. He laughed and said, "Not interested, Pinky."

"She drives a cherry, pale silver frost, '73 Ford Mustang Mach 1," she told him and watched as his interest piqued,"With a 428 Police Interceptor, 2 Holley 4 barrel carbs and headers."

"Is she hot?" Dean wanted to know and Bobby snorted.

"Very," she told him.

"Yeah? What's her name?"

"Eleanor."


End file.
